


You Think That I Don’t Even Mean A Single Word I Say

by kaijuvenom



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Claustrophobia, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Trans Garak, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, brief mention of child abuse, garak has a crush but its not About that, i only needed to type like two more paragraphs skfsjfksjfkds, i started this like a month and a half ago and when i went in to finish it i realized, julian being a supportive angel, the julian/garak is only lightly hinted at, this couldve been posted weeks ago oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26964013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaijuvenom/pseuds/kaijuvenom
Summary: Garak is tired of being lonely, tired of being cold, and most of all, tired of keeping every damn thing about himself a secret, so one day, something spills over. Luckily, transphobia within the Federation hasn't existed for hundreds of years.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 6
Kudos: 95





	You Think That I Don’t Even Mean A Single Word I Say

**Author's Note:**

> __[But it’s only words, and words are all I have to take your heart away.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cvKmh_jWC5c)   
> 

It was a staple in Cardassian culture not to get close to others, to keep them at an arm and a half’s length and never turn your back on them. To never trust anyone to be who they said they were, but on occasion, it makes sense there was a slip here and there. 

A mistake, an ill-fated decision made in a split second that would really rather be forgotten. 

Garak had never liked space. It was too closed off, you couldn’t go outside because there _was_ no outside, and every time Garak was reminded of the fact that there was _no escape from this floating fucking box he was trapped in with people who would kill him given their first possible opportunity,_ it seemed to get exponentially smaller. 

Garak had gone for so long, his whole life in fact, never speaking about the one thing that would make him truly vulnerable, the one thing he couldn’t hide with a lie and a misdirection. Obviously, Tain knew. It seemed he knew everything Garak did and thought, and he held it over his head like a grenade, always a second away from pulling the pin out. He could take it all away with a snap of his fingers, and Garak would prefer not to give anyone else that grenade. Garak was a grown adult now, no one could threaten to force him back to the doctor and take away everything he was, no one had the power over him to do that. Still. There was always a chance. But Julian Bashir wasn’t the type of person to take advantage of him like that. Garak was far more worried about losing his friendship over this and perhaps even the asylum the Federation had granted him. 

And yet. Here he was. Giving someone the grenade. 

Holding it out to someone with only a shred of hope that he would keep the pin in place. And if he didn’t… well then, he supposed it wouldn’t matter, because if Julian would pull the pin on the grenade, he supposed it wouldn’t even be worth it anymore. Garak would have to let go of his only friendship, the warmth, his hope that perhaps this friendship could blossom into something more. 

Was there even a _word_ in Standard that would translate to what Garak was? Was there even a way for him to make sure Julian understood what he was saying?

Julian’s voice eased back into focus as Garak’s brain wound itself up into little balls of fear. 

“... tried to access your past medical records from the Cardassian government and I ended up getting a visit from three different Cardassians who I can only assume were members of the Obsidian Order, telling me to stop sticking my nose where it didn’t belong--even though I _told_ them I was a doctor and it’s my _job_ to make sure I know about the conditions of every person living on Deep Space Nine, but since there’s virtually no way for me to get my hands on any type of Cardassian medical records, anatomy references, et cetera, because you’re all so bloody secretive, and I certainly can’t get _yours,_ I was just wondering if there was anything you could tell me about your medical history, how it might differ from other Cardassians, and if I can use your scans and test results as a basis for the general physiology of male Cardassians, although I don’t know how many other Cardassian patients I’ll have, but still, I’d primarily like to know about your medical history, if you have the time, or we can--”

Garak cut him off by holding up a hand, shaking his head lightly. “My dear doctor, you certainly do love the sound of your own voice, don’t you?”

Julian pursed his lips, crossing his arms in that way Garak had come to learn meant that he wasn’t _really_ mad but only trying to act offended to get Garak to apologize. 

“Unfortunately, doctor, my… physiology is not at all representative of a typical Cardassian male,” Garak said, choosing his words carefully. Julian didn’t seem to pick up on his implications (as was often the case). He knitted his eyebrows, leaning against the wall of Garak’s shop. 

“Care to elaborate on that?” He prompted. “I’ll remind you that this is strictly confidential, no one besides me will hear this. I don’t even have to add it to your medical file, if you’re that concerned about someone seeing it.”

Garak shook his head, reaching forward and touching Julian’s arm, basking in his warmth. This could very well be the last time he’d be able to do so. Julian might think he was a freak, or even worse, he might not even believe Garak, he might think it was another one of his lies. He pulled away from Julian’s arm after a moment, sighing.

“I… well, doctor, it is a bit hard to explain. I don’t know if there is a word which translates to Federation Standard, and even if it does, it might… well, let’s just say that in Kardasi, it doesn’t have the best of implications.” What Garak meant by that was that every word for what Garak was, who he was, in his native language, carried with it an implicit bias, a sense of disgust and (to use a very Klingon word) dishonor. Of course there were some words worse than others, but Garak had no clue what the Universal Translator would spew out if he used one of the kinder ones, or even if it would be able to translate at all. If he wanted Julian to understand him, he’d have to do his best at explaining.

“It’s alright, Garak. Just take your time. I promise you, whatever it is, there’ll be no judgement from me.” Julian’s smile was enough to make Garak feel a little less trapped, a little less like he was handing over a grenade and a little more like he was simply sitting with Julian on the Promenade, having lunch and discussing the latest books they’d read. 

But he was so naive, he had no idea, he couldn’t possibly know, he couldn’t say those things and expect them to be true when he had no idea what Garak was about to tell him.

He didn’t know how to explain it. He found himself in the odd position of wanting to say something that was actually true for a change, and having no clue whatsoever how to begin. 

“I…” He began, before stopping. “It started when I was young,” he started again, looking away from Julian’s face as he did so. 

“What did?” Julian asked gently after a few seconds of silence. 

“We have several words for it, none of them… objective. Or medical, for that matter. It’s seen as something to be ashamed of, to hide from others. It isn’t illegal, per se, more of a taboo. Albeit a serious one.” 

“It’s alright, Garak. I understand. I promise you, I won’t judge you, for whatever it is.” Usually, Garak would poke fun at Julian for that sort of talk, that typical, irrational, Federation sense of inclusivity, love, and what-have-you. But these weren’t usual circumstances, and in this case, Garak found his words reassuring. 

“I wasn’t… I’m not…” He shook his head, briefly closing his eyes. This was far harder than he’d previously anticipated. “My anatomy would be more reminiscent of that of a Cardassian woman,” he finally managed, and understanding instantly dawned on Julian’s face.

Unexpectedly, the emotion that followed the realization was not fear, anger at being lied to all this time, disgust. Instead, Julian gave him a soft smile, reaching forward and squeezing his arm gently. “Garak, you’re trans?” He asked, and the word didn’t translate, likely because no one else on Cardassia tended to speak about the things Garak was speaking about, it had likely never once come up before. 

“I was born in a body, a--a name, a--” he paused, gesturing with one hand as he struggled for the appropriate words, “a person that wasn’t me, that wasn’t… right. If that’s what that means, then yes.”

“It is,” Julian said, and he moved closer, watching Garak as he did so, and Garak’s arms immediately opened to accept the (completely unexpected but not at all unwelcome) hug. 

“So I suppose all my concern over you not understanding, or thinking of me differently, was unnecessary,” Garak murmured into Julian’s hair, his words tilting up in tone at the end to form a partial question.

“I’m so sorry you went this long feeling like you had to hide it. Did- does anyone else… know?”

Garak shook his head briefly. “No one here. Only… only Tain knows. And I would prefer to keep it that way.” 

Julian nodded in understanding. “I won’t tell a soul, Garak. You have my word.” He was silent for a moment, and Garak could tell he was trying to think of something to say, or rather, how to say it. 

“Garak…” he began, “if you ever need… anything to make you feel more… yourself, and I mean anything, testosterone--or, whatever the Cardassian equivalent of that is, if you even have it--or any kind of surgery, I mean, I’m not saying you have to, or that you’re any less who you are without, but I just want you to know that if-”

Garak reached out and put his hand on Julian’s shoulder, causing him to close his mouth. “Thank you, my dear. I’ll be sure to come to you.”

Just as Garak was about to remove his hand from Julian’s shoulder, Julian brought his own hand up and placed it on top of Garak’s, smiling warmly. “I mean it. I want you to know you can trust me.”

“Thank. You,” Garak repeated, rather stiffly, staring at Julian’s hand over his. It was warm, as he’d expected Julian to be, not that he’d imagined what Julian’s body felt like (he had). 

Julian slipped his hand away, smiling warmly at Garak before giving him a nonspecific excuse to leave, and Garak was left staring after him as he walked away, only one thought echoing through his mind.

_I shouldn’t have given him that grenade. He could pull the pin and destroy my livelihood at any time_.

His father would be terribly disappointed in him, but, as he stared at the space Julian had occupied not ten seconds ago, he couldn’t ignore the way he felt as though an anvil had been slowly lifted off his chest, allowing him to breathe for the first time since he’d been marooned on this horrid little dingy space station.

**Author's Note:**

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> 


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